V. Ramani's web I AM, THEREFORE I THINK

It was Marshall McLuhan, the Canadian intellectual and philosopher, who coined the famous catchphrase “The medium is the message.” He observed that “societies have always been shaped by the nature of the media by which men communicate than by the content of the communication.” McLuhan avers that the consequences of the media are so pervasive in every aspect of life that they touch and alter every part of human existence. I confess I was not even aware that McLuhan was the co-author of a book “The Medium is the Massage” when I conceived the title for this blog. So it is rather apt that I emphasise in this blog the central argument of McLuhan that each medium has a different impact on the human senses, confining my discussion to the print and electronic media (what I would loosely term as “information media”) in India.
The era of the print media in India, spanning most of the twentieth century, was characterised largely by reporting drawing on agency reports. Investigative reporting was given a fillip by newspapers like the Indian Express, which documented the plight of women sold into sexual slavery, the cement for trust scandal in Maharashtra and the origins and consequences of communal riots in different parts of the country. However, the reader participated at most vicariously in most of these rather sombre accounts of the polity and society. They agitated some who sought to change the status quo but were largely “water off the duck’s back” as far as the silent majority of middle class readers were concerned. I do not, of course, refer here to blatantly inflammatory writings (which surfaced increasingly towards the close of the 1980s) in newspapers and journals espousing extreme religious views, which had the potential (often through misleading or false reporting) to inflame public passions.
The explosion of the television revolution in Indian homes and the exponential increase in electronic broadcast channels has had a phenomenal quantitative and qualitative impact on viewers. It cuts across barriers of gender and age in the ordinary household, unlike the daily newspaper, which was largely the staple fare of the head of the house (usually male). Again, this medium could be consumed around the clock, in contrast to its print predecessor, which lost its novelty by mid-morning. Post the 1982 Asiad, televisions entered almost every living room (and subsequently bedrooms) in India. I can’t help thinking, a little cynically, that the government of the day saw this as a medium to influence the masses (after all, Orwellian 1984 was fast approaching!). However, the early fascination was for soap operas (long denied to the starved Indian public) and religious epics. The latter probably spawned a rush of religiosity, reflected in subsequent electoral mandates to parties with specific sectarian appeals. Soap operas and family dramas stoked the aspirations of millions of viewers, with coiffured ‘bahus’ (even when rising from bed) and magnificent houses on display. In an economy and society with limited opportunities for upward mobility, one could at least dream of, in not actually attain, the Olympian heights of material success. The “massage” of the masses could well and truly be said to have begun.
The next wave of “media massage” was ushered in by the advent of 24-hour television news channels. Starting with English and Hindi, they expanded to every major regional language spoken in India. As their reach extended throughout the country with the spread of cable networks and, subsequently, direct to home (DTH) television services, news channels metamorphosed from purveying to shaping and influencing public opinion. When information is hammered relentlessly hour after hour on the consciousness of the viewer, the resulting “analysis fatigue” leads to a willingness to accept the presented version as the unvarnished truth. The dictum “No news is good news” was stood on its head and “Good news is no news” became the accepted norm. News channels, in their quest for “grabbing eyeballs”, started feeding on the anxieties of their viewers. I had personal experience of this more than a decade ago as a senior administrator in Maharashtra. A well-known Hindi news channel flashed a late night report of an earthquake in an area, when we were aware that the locals had reported some noises emanating from the ground and the local administration had already taken precautionary measures. The next two hours saw panic-stricken calls from the state government in Mumbai and verification calls from other journalists. The concerned news channel did not even clarify that their report had been exaggerated. I also remember vividly a prominent murder case in Mumbai where one news channel pronounced a guilty verdict on a friend of the deceased within hours of the murder, without even waiting for the police to complete their investigation and arrest the actual accused. In this case, too, there was no retraction or apology from the channel for having falsely maligned an innocent person. Today, we have channels which, under the guise of rapid news, will report every case of murder, dacoity, etc. Not only that, the pernicious practice of painting persons, including bureaucrats, as guilty solely on the grounds that they are questioned by investigative agencies has caused untold anguish and represents a violation of their rights as citizens. The public, attuned to the “bad news” of low moral and ethical values, is only too ready to lap up salacious details of any occurrence, with truth often being the first casualty.
Spirituality and astrology are two other areas where the Indian television viewer seeks refuge from the pressures of modern life. Adrift from her traditional caste and village moorings, the viewer absorbs messages from a wide variety of gurus and godmen, cutting across religious and caste lines. Anxieties about the future are also cleverly exploited by the legion of astrologers who have set up shop on different channels. One well-known astrologer on a regional religious channel predicted apocalypse two years back. The world continues on its merry ways, but the astrologer (alas!) has vanished from the channel. A wide variety of mantras, observances, medicines, amulets and stones are offered as solace to the hordes of seekers of jobs, marriage alliances, good health and progeny. What is noticeable is the intricate mesh of spiritual and temporal-commercial interests. After a few cursory suggestions, the viewer is provided with mobile numbers and websites to fix appointments and obtain remedies on payment basis. I am not passing value judgments on these practices on television channels, merely observing that the “massage” has moved from catering to aspirations to stoking insecurities to providing a quick fix to all the myriad problems that beset us in our daily existence.
What concerns me about the “media massage” phenomenon is the growing lack of discrimination of the television viewer. The lack of critical reflection on what one reads has already been one of the consequences of the sub-Rs. 100 book industry, with its “use and throw” philosophy. When this extends to a far more pervasive medium like 24-hour channels, the brainwashing of the individual can be far more thorough and comprehensive. Consumerism has already taken a firm hold on viewers, with infinite products displayed on channels dedicated to sale of a wide variety of products. Greed, rather than need, dictates buying impulses, in the mad rush to keep up with the Patels/Sharmas, et al. Superstitious behaviour is being given a fillip by programmes on supernatural events and dire predictions on events likely to occur in the near future as well as measures to ward off evil effects. There is also the concern that politics and history can be doctored to inundate the viewer with sectarian views aimed at creating collective insecurity and reinforcing separate community identities. With the phenomenon of paid news in the print media in relation to election campaigns, who is to say that poll predictions will not be doctored to meet the interests of different political parties? However, one remains optimistic given the number of dissenting and discordant voices which prevail on the media, as well as the competition among channels espousing different points of view. Finally, the enigmatic Indian voter, like the moving finger “writes and, having writ, moves on…” Thanks be for the eternally argumentative Indian and our noisy, occasionally exasperating democracy!!

The elections in India have come and gone like a tropical hurricane, leaving behind one of the most unusual results of recent times. After almost thirty years, the Indian voter has given an unambiguous verdict in favour of one political party. Today, I want to focus on the implications of these results for a state that has been my karmabhoomi for over thirty years – Maharashtra. After being a witness to six State Assembly elections since 1985, there are certain interesting trends to discern in the voting pattern in the recent Lok Sabha elections that could serve as a pointer to what might transpire in the forthcoming Assembly elections scheduled for October this year.
The one sided nature of the Lok Sabha election results in Maharashtra defied all predictions and came as a shock to the ruling Congress party and a very pleasant surprise to the victorious Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP). As one of the two states in India where the BJP has stable, long term alliances with regional parties (the other being Punjab), the scale of the victory in Maharashtra catapulted the BJP to an absolute majority in the Lower House. In fact, the results in UP and Maharashtra were instrumental in propelling the BJP to a position where it need not employ coalition dharma in ruling the country for the next five years.
What is significant and a pointer to things to come in Maharashtra is the margin of victory of the candidates of the BJP and it’s allies, the Shiv Sena and the Swabhimani Paksha, in every constituency in the state. The final constituency-wise tally reveals that in 41 of the 42 seats won by the BJP alliance, the margin of victory exceeded one lakh votes. Even in Yavatmal-Washim constituency, the victorious Shiv Sena candidate’s victory margin exceeded 90,000 votes. This was higher than the largest victory margin for a Congress-Nationalist Congress Party (NCP) alliance candidate. This, too, was in Nanded, where the former Chief Minister and son of the old Congress loyalist S.B. Chavan, Ashok Chavan, won by just over 81,000 votes. There are two disconcerting (for the Congress-NCP alliance) trends that will give them a lot of food for thought in the coming four months. The first is, of course, the six-figure defeat margin in all but one constituency, a first in the state of Maharashtra. Even more worrying for the alliance are the victory margins for the successful Congress-NCP candidates, which range from under 2000 to just over 80,000 (if we rule out the sole aberration of Satara, won by an ex-royal family scion). Even the Sharad Pawar bastion of Baramati was breached, with his daughter getting home by what, for the Pawar family, would be termed a wafer-thin margin of under 70,000 votes.
The results reflect a deep discontent (indeed anger) of the voter with a ruling alliance that, over the last fifteen years, has been riven with internal dissensions and squabbles, allegations of corruption in high places and a continuing failure to deliver effective, honest governance. The NCP came into existence with the ambition of becoming a major regional political alternative: it hoped to replace the Congress as the main centrist formation in Maharashtra. The marriage has been a fairly acrimonious one, marked by suspicion, intrigue and mutual recriminations. Even as this is written, the two parties in the ruling coalition are busy accusing each other of sabotaging the electoral chances of the other party’s candidates.
Corruption allegations against individual members of the Cabinet have surfaced at regular intervals, right from the first five-year term of the present coalition. Decisions in infrastructure areas like roads and irrigation as also resource allocation areas like land have been the target of public criticism for alleged favours shown to certain parties, including those politically well-connected. In recent years, both the Chief Minister and the Deputy Chief Minister have had to resign in the wake of very specific allegations relating to their conduct while in office.
The failure to effect institutional changes to improve administrative effectiveness is particularly disquieting. Even after legislation to regulate transfers was brought into force in 2005, there is still a lot of opacity about the transfer process. Boards to regulate Civil Service and police transfers are yet to start functioning, in spite of Supreme Court directives. The recent disquiet at the highest levels of the police over excessive interference from the Secretariat and the political level is a notable example. Ministers have centralised most project approval, procurement and purchase powers at the Secretariat level, giving ample scope for doubts about the fairness of these processes. The attempted remedy, further centralisation of powers at the Chief Minister’s level, has delayed decision making. With no empowered, independent Lok Ayukta at the state level, there is no effective check on the actions of the executive. The state is yet to enact a Right to Public Services legislation, lagging behind other states which have already done so. Important steps like repealing the Rent Control Acts and devising policies for using the stock of land currently with the government subsequent to the repeal of the Urban Land Ceiling Act have not been taken, leading to artificial escalations in real estate prices and diminishing the stock of property available for housing purposes. No effort has been made to introduce responsible, efficient local government systems, with adequate financial and administrative powers: the result is particularly evident in decaying towns and cities with a poor quality of life. Promoting primary and secondary education and developing job skills have never been the priority of the government. Above all, there has been little job creation in the organised sector, creating a vast underbelly of underemployed, discontented youth.
It might be argued that the situation is not much better in many other states, where governments have been returned to power time and again. The real issue, however, is one of public perception. When the constituents of the government do not pull in one direction and there is a widespread feeling that there is no specific policy direction, public confidence in the governing dispensation is severely shaken. The recent election results reflect, of course, the rejection of the government at the national level. But the margins of victories for the main opposition parties in the state represent a rejection of the state government as well. 2014 is different from 2004 and 2009 in that, in the state elections in those years, the BJP alliance was going through its own existential crises. The BJP was going through a churning process at the national level and the Shiv Sena was beset with the exit of many important leaders, consequent on a leadership struggle in the party. With these issues largely resolved for now, the BJP alliance is much better placed to offer a more viable alternative to the current ruling coalition. Given the short time period available before the state election process kicks in, it looks well-nigh impossible for the present government to refurbish its image to attract voters to its fold once again.
My only fervent hope (indeed prayer) is that whichever group comes to power will focus on the basic issues that will make Maharashtra a vibrant, competitive state and give its over 100 million people a decent quality of life. The Shiv Sena-BJP alliance squandered its 1995 mandate and the Congress-NCP alliance has wasted three opportunities given to it since 1999. Politicians of all hues would do well to remember that you are only as good as your last term in office. If you wish to continue ‘serving the people’ (a favourite euphemism of all politicians), please set aside your personal goals and focus on policies that will give your people a better future.

The concept of watches is crucial to the safe and proper operation of a ship, especially when it is on the high seas. Different officers on board the ship are assigned different duties to ensure safe operation and navigation of the ship. Officers and men carry out these watch duties related to the routine of the ship in areas ranging from the bridge and the deck to communications and engineering. Failure to report untoward incidents and take immediate remedial action can lead to collisions with other seagoing vessels, seizure by hostile elements and even the sinking of the ship with consequent loss of men and material.
The ship of state is similar to a large seagoing vessel. In a lighter vein, it has been observed in the Yes Minister TV serial series that “the ship of state is the only ship that leaks from the top”, a reference to the tendency of top politicians and bureaucrats to divulge vital information to the media when they want to press for or stall a particular policy or course of action. But, more seriously, there are striking similarities in the two organisational structures, exemplified particularly in the maintenance of law and order by the state. I single out the law and order function because of the immediate consequences on the lives of ordinary citizens of the failure of the state to protect the right to life and property of the average citizen. The state here ranges from the topmost political executives (the Prime Minister, Chief Ministers and Home Ministers) right down to the lowest administrative functionary (the Taluka Magistrate and the officer in charge of a police station). It will never do for any functionary (political or administrative) at any level of the chain of command to claim that (s)he is not responsible for events leading to loss of lives and property. The credibility of the ship of state suffers serious damage when such events occur and leads to lasting scars and bitter memories in those at the receiving end.
I am motivated to write this piece by the reams of paper and the volume of verbal (often vituperative) discourse in the print and electronic media on the culpability of specific personalities for incidents that occurred while they were at the helm of affairs in the Government of India and different state governments. Unfortunately, nearly all the discussion has centred on partisan finger pointing and blame fixing rather than on the responsibilities cast on the political and administrative echelons to ensure safety and security of the populations living in their respective administrative areas. As examples, we have the decadal upheavals of 1984, 1992-93 and 2002, all of which represented conscious, tragic failures of the state to uphold the rule of law. More to the point, these represented instances where the state (from top to bottom) consciously abdicated its role for a certain period of time, in contrast to many other post-1947 incidents where the state machinery was found wanting in dealing with sectarian strife, but where the stigma could not be said to have spread across the entire governance strata and where those at the top could be accused of inaction but not of wanton neglect of their basic duties.
1984 represented the first major case where the state truly fiddled while the country burned. The anti-Sikh riots post the assassination of Indira Gandhi saw the national capital turn into a jungle as, probably for the first time after partition, mob rule prevailed on the streets of Delhi for the better part of three days. December 1992 saw both the Government of India and the Uttar Pradesh (UP) State Government benignly sitting by while a centuries-old mosque was demolished by right-wing activists. Immediately thereafter, we had the situation of the Maharashtra Government failing to control the aftermath of the Babri Masjid demolition and allowing mobs a free run of the streets of what was then Bombay. And, of course, we have the still hotly debated 2002 Ahmedabad riots, when one community was targeted for acts committed elsewhere. More recently, we have instances of recurring violence in Assam and the riots in Muzaffarnagar in UP.
It is not the intention of this blog to attempt to lay the blame for these unfortunate happenings at the doors of one or the other persons or organisations: the criminal justice system is supposed to take necessary action, even though there are serious questions on whether the guilty have been brought to book. What concerns us is the utter failure of the state to discharge its responsibilities and the failure of various administrative and political functionaries to live up to the oaths they had taken to the Constitution of India. Such occurrences not only leave deep scars on the psyche of the survivors but also instil in them a fear about the basic capacity of the government of the day to guarantee their fundamental right to life and liberty.
Three pernicious factors in the state and its machinery have led to this sorry state of affairs where we are unable to stop such upheavals at regular intervals: Partisanship, Corruption and Weakness. 

Partisanship refers to that tendency where the functionary charged with the maintenance of public order is unable to rise above the pulls and pressures of caste, ethnic and religious loyalties to discharge his basic duties in a fair, impartial manner. (I have deliberately used the male gender to refer to the functionary, since a preponderant proportion of the acts of commission and omission are committed by males, although it is unfortunate that women are now getting infected by the same virus). The lower echelons of the police force and the magistracy take their cues from the higher levels of the political and civil administration. It has been repeatedly observed, for example, that districts in which the topmost officers like the District Magistrate and the Superintendent of Police set a personal example in fairness and impartiality rarely experience violent or long lasting eruptions of lawlessness. A ready example is the peace in then Bombay City in 1984 when the Chief Minister and Police Commissioner made it clear that no violence against a specific community would be tolerated.
Corruption is the insidious cancer that eats away at the body of the state machinery. Centralised posting and transfer powers have ensured that pliant (and often corrupt) officers and men are posted keeping caste, ethnic, religious and other similar factors in mind. The transfer auction industry creates a system where resources have to be gathered by those getting postings of their choice to repay the favours done to them. Easy sources of illegal revenue range from the traditional avenues of gambling, prostitution and illicit liquor to the post-modern riches of minor and major mineral mining, transportation, narcotics, straightforward extortion and collusion in underworld killings. This weakens the authority of the local officer to enforce the law in his area of operation. More than two decades ago, the presence of matka (gambling) dens and illicit liquor joints in a district were a pointer to the presence of unlawful elements; competition between rival groups was often the starting point for sectarian trouble, though the immediate provocation could be anything from eve-teasing to a streetside altercation after a minor accident. With access to immense wealth, criminal elements now rule the roost in many areas of the country — they do not even need to find politicians to support them, since they are themselves active in the political arena.
Weakness in law enforcement is an offshoot of the first two factors. Officers and men with inbuilt prejudices against certain communities can hardly be expected to be even-handed in handling sensitive situations. The problem is compounded further when such personnel are also compromised through their financial dealings with corrupt and criminal elements in their local areas and their readiness to do the bidding of the political masters who have secured for them their lucrative postings. With the system of centralised transfers, many such officers and men are not even bothered to follow the orders of their superior officers — indeed, they can probably arrange for the transfer of inconvenient officers, or, in some instances, for their elimination.
We are going to see a new government take up the reins of office in Delhi in the next week or so. At this juncture, it might be apposite to remind the incoming government that no excuse for failure to protect the life and property of ordinary citizens will wash with the public. We also have silly solutions being advanced in Assam like arming certain groups to protect themselves. Apart from promoting armed conflict among different groups, such suggestions (if they emanated from the government of the day) reflect a bankruptcy in governance. A government countenancing such ideas has no business to continue to rule. It is the primary duty of an elected government to provide security to its citizens as they go about their daily business. The comparison with a naval vessel can again be made, with one important difference. The captain of a ship stays with it to the last, even going down with it when it sinks. We certainly hope the ship of state never sinks. But its captain, the leader of the government, has to, at all times, secure the safety of the occupants of his ship.

“Nor public flame, nor private, dares to shine;
Nor human spark is left, nor glimpse divine!
Lo! thy dread empire, Chaos! is restored;
Light dies before thy uncreating word:
Thy hand, great Anarch! lets the curtain fall;
And universal darkness buries all.”
― Alexander Pope, The Dunciad
(with apologies to Alexander Pope)

The soap opera ‘Dynasty’, based on a fictional wealthy family in Denver, Colorado, USA, aired on America’s ABC Channel from 1981 to 1989. A much longer soap opera has aired on the Indian political scene for the last sixty years or so. Continuing with the glorious tradition of the Gupta, Chola and Chalukya dynasties as well as the Delhi Sultanate and Mughal dynasties, independent India has reinvented dynastic rule in a democratic framework. The creature has mutated in new forms over the years, transcending the boundaries of political affiliation, caste, religion and gender, and is now well entrenched on the national scene as well as in nearly every state in India.
In the beginning, as in many other stories of independent India, there was the Nehru-Gandhi dynasty. The handover of the Prime Ministerial baton, albeit with a runner in between, from one generation of Nehrus to the next, was followed in the 1970s and 1980s by Generation X of varying dynasties ascending to the top of the pyramid. It did not take long for the framework to be copied across the board and the 1990s and the first ten years of the present century have seen Generation Y asserting their birthright to rule, from Kashmir to Kanyakumari and from Dwarka to Dimapur. Almost no political party can claim to be immune to this phenomenon. What does this portend for the future of Indian democracy?
For a start, dynastic succession imposes severe barriers to entry and stifles competition, with adverse consequences for merit and efficiency. The first generation of the dynasty could be drawn from a professional political family, a former ruling princely family, a johnny-come-lately neo-rich real estate or liquor baron or a more modest loyal servitor of one of the above classes, whose major virtue is his/her undying loyalty to the powers that be. The absence of inner party democracy and the prevalence of widespread sycophancy ensure that election tickets circulate within a small body of modern-day monarchs and oligarchs, with the occasional concessions being made to celebrities, professionals and out of work bureaucrats, police and army officers. To be fair to it, the modern Indian dynastic system does not necessarily operate by the laws of primogeniture — spouses, sisters, brothers and daughters can all be successors to the jagir of the patriarch (or matriarch, as the case may be). Whether or not India applies it on the sports field, the phrase “catch them young” certainly applies in the political battlefield. A recent analysis of Indian MPs found that all MPs below the age of 30 were drawn from political lineages. The high costs of fighting elections and the benefits of political patronage ensure that those with a family political background start life in politics with a significant advantage.
Hereditary accession is certainly no guarantee of ability in governance, whether in the corporate sector or in politics. The easy access to position and wealth generates complacency and a certain distancing from the electorate. This is changing swiftly in recent years as anti-incumbency has kicked in in the last few elections. And yet, there are many parliamentarians and legislators who are just not able to make a mark in their constituencies and deliver the services that their constituents expect of them. A major reason for this is that many of these legislators/parliamentarians are complete greenhorns in public administration. The political generation of the 1950s to 1970s (Generation W, should we call them?) had been schooled either in the struggle for independence or in local administration in village panchayats, Zilla Parishads or municipal bodies. When they became legislators or parliamentarians they already had a good understanding of how the wheels of government moved — many of them were consequently very able administrators, who were respected and feared by their bureaucrats. Generations X and Y have often been born with the proverbial silver spoon and hence have had neither the time nor the inclination to master the details and intricacies of public administration.
A third vitiating factor has been the growing and easy access to patronage and business cronies. Businessmen and contractors have established cosy linkages with politicians; in a number of instances, they have themselves jumped into the political fray, given their access to resources. As we move from Generation W to Generation Y, the tendency to succumb to the lure of easy money, coupled with the astronomical costs of fighting elections, has seen a throwing of ethical norms to the winds and a general acceptance of the principle that all’s fair in politics, whether in manipulating contracts, auctioning postings or protecting shady friends from the arm of the law. Where Generation X/Y politicians try to carve out their own paths clear of these obstacles, they are often obstructed by the party oligarchs of an earlier generation, who resent any interference in their existing, comfortable status quo.
There is a very real danger that mediocrity and superficial involvement will crowd out excellence and passionate commitment in the political arena. It is already noticeable that very few legislators can grasp the complexities of public policy and the intricacies of law-making. Innovation and bold decision making in government have also taken a back seat with political leaders going in for feel-good and expedient solutions that favour certain social groups rather than sweeping institutional reforms that can significantly transform the lives of their countrymen and women. In this rather dismal scenario, the growing restlessness of the middle classes, if harnessed on constructive lines, can play a major role in enforcing political accountability for outcomes that set India on a trajectory of rapid growth and development that reaches the largest proportion of the population. As the philosopher Karl Popper defines it, the identifying characteristic of a democracy is the change in government without bloodshed. Political parties that fail to focus on long-term solutions or rely on obsolete ideologies run the risk of being marginalised or even wiped out. It is time they read the writing on the wall.

The 5 April 2014 issue of the Economist has stirred up a hornet’s nest with its recommendation that a government led by Rahul Gandhi is a less disturbing option. A lot of righteous indignation has been expressed far and wide about what is termed an uncalled for interference in voter choice. My old friend Sanjeev Ahluwalia (blog site: http://www.ahlu-india.com) has compared the Economist article to the legendary “dog that failed to bark” in the Sherlock Holmes story; the only difference, he observes, is that the Economist actually barked this time. He wonders whether the Economist is acting at someone else’s behest to help bring about a BJP win without the Gujarat strongman at the helm.
It would be instructive to know whether the Economist took a similar view at the time of the 1984 Lok Sabha elections, which were held in the immediate aftermath of a horrifying massacre of Sikhs across a number of Indian states, most of which were governed by the then ruling Indian National Congress party. In any case, after ten years of Congress party rule, with all its trials and tribulations, the Indian voter will, come 16 May 2014, deliver a verdict that reflects her considered assessment of who is best suited to occupy the Delhi gaddi for the next five years. The Indian voter has voted decisively in election after election since 1952 and at no point can she be faulted for error of judgment, given the choices open to her.
So we don’t need the Economist (or any other so-called intellectual journal or paper) giving gratuitous advice to the Indian voter. Having said this, it would be salutary to pause and reflect on the Western (specifically Anglo-Saxon) tendency to pontificate on the “White Man’s Burden” while ignoring serious blunders much nearer home. The history of today’s Western democracies is a case of “trial and error” – the errors of judgment of the then Great Powers have led to trials for the less privileged communities subjected to their ministrations for much of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. In this, they have often relied on the mass media in their societies (owned generally by powerful economic interests) to sell the message of their civilizing mission to the world at large. That the societies for whose benefit interventionist policies were devised failed to appreciate them has often baffled Western democracies.
The Vietnam War was one of the major events where the media (especially its American arms) were at pains to stress the efforts to contain the spread of Communist influence (and, presumably, aid the spread of democracy). Magazines like the Readers’ Digest highlighted offensives by “North Vietnamese forces”, when the issue in question was the legitimacy of the American intervention in a country far from its shores, never mind the treaties with dummy, often highly corrupt and autocratic regimes. Subsequent interventions in war theatres as diverse as Afghanistan, Iraq and Libya have also merited little dispassionate media analysis. Consequently, whether driven by revenge (Afghanistan) or removing old enemies (Iraq and Libya), military adventures in recent years have invariably ended in fiascos, with the “beneficiary” countries no nearer a resolution of their internal conflicts or a move towards democratic norms. Media discussion has always focused on how American interests are best served by such interventions and rarely (or never) on what the implications are for the native populations. Not surprisingly, recent events in Egypt and Syria have seen far more muted American responses, given the uncertainty of outcomes. Even today, media response to brutal, oppressive regimes in Asia and Africa is governed more by geopolitical interests rather than a genuine interest in human rights or democratic values.
Gratuitous advice is also more forthcoming from the Western media on other issues like environment, economic and energy policy. Homilies are delivered to emerging economies on the use of nuclear energy, ecological management and promoting economic growth. After the East Asian economic crisis of the late 1990s, the IMF administered the medicine of structural adjustment to economies of these countries regardless of their impact on the living standards of the poor, with the tacit approval of the media in developed countries. One would have thought that growing debt (both public and private) in the OECD countries would have worried the media in the first half of the first decade of the twenty first century. And yet, no admonitions were forthcoming as the housing bubble grew to worrisome proportions in this period. After it burst, leading to the global meltdown post-2008, there were any number of post-facto analyses of what went wrong, ignoring the basic facts of irresponsible lending and flagrant violations of the basic norms of fiscal prudence.
The sum and substance of what I am saying is that Western media advice should be directed first to those nearer home, since their actions have domino effects across the globe, especially on emerging and poorer economies. With the United Nations and multilateral institutions having little real influence on the big boys, it is only international public opinion, informed and shaped by print, electronic and social media, which can play a balancing role in curbing the unequal exercise of economic and military power.
So the Indian people’s final words of advice to the Economist in its concern for India’s well-being would be the same as those uttered by the fair maid who was initially courted and later rejected by the country squire “…No one asked you, sir, she said…” Come the Ides of May, the people of India will shape their destiny, which goes far deeper than a superficial preoccupation with particular personalities or political formations.

At the outset of this blog, let me put in two disclaimers — the initial reference to a political figure is only to acknowledge his title and authorship of the blog post quoted here and his mention in no way represents a departure from the policy of this blog site to defer from discussing (or dissecting) personalities but to analyse only trends and tendencies in social, economic and political behaviour. Having got this mea culpa out of the way, let me jump into the discussion in right earnest.

The BJP leader Arun Jaitley’s blog of 23 March 2014 on his website http://www.arunjaitley.com states “Membership of political party is a privilege. It is also an act of self-oppression where personal views and ambitions are subjected to the collective wisdom of the party. At times, the party may flood leaders with privileges and positions. On other occasions, the leader may have to take “no” as an answer to his desires. How does a politician or a leader react to such “no”? He must accept the decision with a smile. This becomes a test of his loyalty and discipline.” The use of the term “self-oppression” which reeks of repression (even if by one’s own self) makes one wince given that one always thought that human endeavour in all areas (including political activity) seeks to give fullest expression to human individuality and creativity. There is also the term “collective wisdom of the party” which echoes the sentiments of a Stalinist-era Commissar. In fact, words like “collective wisdom”, “the party”, “loyalty” and “discipline” fit in far better with the vocabulary of the former Soviet or the Chinese Communist Party rather than of a party functioning in a noisy, vibrant democracy like India.

But although Indian political parties function in a democracy, they are not democratic in their inner functioning and processes. Even the venerable Indian National Congress was not immune to this charge right from pre-independence days. The basic cause lies in the readiness of political workers to rally behind the vote-getting charisma of a leader and to be willing accomplices in the centralisation of party power so long as their interests (and those of their kith and kin) are looked after. The recent murmurings in many parties and the bed-hopping that has started in real earnest are reflections of thwarted desires and ambitions, as Jaitley has rightly observed. The problem, however, lies in the lack of institutionalisation of democratic processes in party functioning.

Take the issue of candidate selection for any poll in India, from village panchayat to Parliament. The United States has its primaries (however flawed) and the United Kingdom has its local constituency committees, which select party candidates, either themselves or from a centrally approved list. In India, there is little or no transparency in the method of selection of candidates. In most cases, names of candidates handed down by the party high command have to be accepted at the local level with little or no dissent being tolerated. While there are cases of locally popular candidates making it to the final list,  there are also many instances of wards of powerful party functionaries, crony business associates and financiers and musclemen making it as the official candidates. This has not only promoted nepotism in and criminalisation of party politics but has also created a vast underclass of embittered, disgruntled political workers, who are vulnerable to the appeal of any sectarian, authoritarian outfit that can hold out a promise to them of their day in the sun. Established national political parties in India have suffered on this count at the hands of regional parties, which today hold the power of life and death over their survival in office, almost always at the cost of good economics and politics.

The awareness of their charismatic hold on the electorate, at least in the short-run, has bred a class of highly authoritarian leaders in India. They feel no sense of accountability to institutions of democracy. Indeed, leaders arraigned on charges of corruption in recent years have held themselves accountable to the “court of the people” rather than to the judicial process, as though victory in elections can cleanse them of all sins committed while holding public office. Such leaders, like Louis XIV of France, can claim “I am the state.” What is even more noticeable over the years is the tendency of subordinates of these leaders to turn a blind eye to every transgression of public ethics on the part of their leader and resort to abject submission even when they know in their heart of hearts that a policy inimical to public interest or which violates the norms of good, sensible governance is being followed…the days of a Rajaji or a Feroze Gandhi seem very far away indeed!

This sycophancy has led to a serious erosion of legislative responsibility. By definition, legislators are law makers. However, since the only motivating force is the display of loyalty to the party (and by inference, the leader), there is little incentive for the legislator to make a mark through excellence in debate or contributing to framing of effective laws. The Anti-Defection Law has only worsened the problem with legislators having little or no room to question policies of their party, leave alone voting against the party on issues where their convictions clash with the official party position. Little wonder then that anarchy prevails with uproarious scenes in the state legislatures and Parliament being the rule rather than the exception.

The inherent assumption in the Jaitley blog quoted above is that it is the party that has the right to thrust a candidate on the electorate, never mind their wishes or aspirations. When all major political parties adopt this principle, the voter is left with a Hobson’s choice. Low voter turnouts at elections are a natural corollary. Even the introduction of NOTA (None Of The Above) as an optional choice to voters does not solve the basic problem; when candidates are not thrown up from the people, TINA (There Is No Alternative) will always triumph over NOTA. The casualty here is democracy: when my representative from the village panchayat to Parliament is not of my choice and, knowing she is not beholden to me, can largely ignore me for five years, why will I show any interest in taking an active interest in public issues? The urban anger manifested in the last three years is a reflection of the perception of the Aam Aadmi that no party cares for her interests and no elected representative truly wants to help resolve her problems of day to day existence. It needs to be clearly understood: the candidate exists not for the party, but for her electorate; the political party is only a medium for the right person to sincerely and strongly represent her constituency in whichever political forum she is elected to.

We are all familiar with the acronym PPP, which has been touted as a solution to raising resources and bringing in operational efficiency in various infrastructure sectors. Alas, in the Indian context, PPP (or public private partnership), has an altogether different connotation. It represents the use of public money for private gains – a partnership that benefits just a few and condemns the many to indifferent public services. PPP, as it has evolved over the past six decades of independent India, stands for something else altogether – Patronage, Procurement and Postings. The fascinating story of this PPP is woven closely into the common man’s social, economic and political life.

The tale begins, as always, in the 1950s with the introduction of the “socialist pattern of society”. Large areas of economic activity were reserved for the public sector; where the private sector was tolerated, it had to beg for scarce licenses. Controls on movement of goods and services, both within and outside the country, were imposed. It was not long before those exercising political power saw the benefits of these arrangements. The public sector became the vehicle for political patronage of various sorts – people from your constituency could be employed in different undertakings without considerations of merit and efficiency coming into the picture and procurement contracts could be awarded to your supporters or to those offering the highest “economic rent” (ER). It was even easier with the private sector: the quid pro quo for granting production licenses could be in direct cash. Controls on scarce items like foreign exchange and consumer goods raised the premiums payable on acquisition of these scarce commodities and the development of thriving black markets.

Forty years passed and the Indian economy developed a severe illness. The treatment involved freeing economic activity of some controls and allowing the entry of the private sector, both Indian and foreign, into sectors hitherto inaccessible to them. This posed new threats and challenges to the Indian political class and others who had benefited from the earlier dispensation. The reduced role of the public sector meant that procurement contracts in certain sectors no longer yielded the sort of ER they had earlier. At the same time, natural resource allocation became a new source of ER, especially since no norms for auctioning these resources in a transparent bidding process were evolved. We are still grappling with the aftermath of this phenomenon in sectors as diverse as coal mining and telecom spectrum allocation. The growing disposable income with a rising middle class and the trend towards rapid urbanization saw land becoming a major source of revenue for politicians and builders. Since decisions on land use are largely vested in state governments, its allocation gave ER access to state-level politicians. But there are also a variety of permissions on use of land that require clearances at the national level, notably on environmental grounds. Land use and land allocation are areas where there has been a long tradition of unwarranted state interference in what ought to have been independent urban planning decisions. It is common knowledge that this sector has contributed in no small measure to the funding of election campaigns.

However, natural resource allocations are still concentrated in a relatively small number of ministries at the national level. Procurements again are much larger in major infrastructure sectors and in areas like defence. The solution worked out around this problem by the political class has been to squarely put its finger into the “procurement pie”. In many ministries and departments at the national and state levels, the tendency has been to centralize purchases at the secretariat level. While the reason ostensibly given has been that these reduce costs through discounts on bulk purchases, actual experience shows that the ER factor kicks in here as well. The problem is compounded by bunching together purchases near the financial year end (March 31) so that there is inadequate financial scrutiny of proposals; a number of purchase decisions also escape audit scrutiny because of the sheer volume of transactions in the last couple of days of the financial year.

A third area of increasing political interference has been in postings and transfers of officers and staff. At the recruitment stage itself, there is substantial evidence of extra-legal considerations playing a role in selection, as witnessed in the number of state public service commission scams that have come to light in recent years. About twenty five years ago, most decisions on transfers of subordinate staff were handled by the head of the department, or District Collectors (and Divisional Commissioners, where they existed). Between 1990 (when I was a District Collector) and 2000 (when I became a Divisional Commissioner) in a state like Maharashtra, the situation saw a sea change. I found I had not even a fraction of the transfer powers I had ten years before, thanks to administrative orders issued in the mid-1990s. This not only led to a breakdown in the chain of command (since employees did not have to meet performance expectations of their superiors to continue in a post), but also led to the extremely damaging phenomena of political proximity of the bureaucracy as well as the pernicious practice of a thriving “black market” transfer industry. While some efforts have been made in a state like Maharashtra to rectify this situation through legislation, there are still enough loopholes for officers and staff to secure postings of their choice. The recent disquiet in the Indian Police Service cadre in Maharashtra is an indication that there is something rotten in the State of Denmark. There is no reason to suspect that the position is better in other states; if anything, it would be far worse.

What is dismaying to any observer is the nonchalant attitude of nearly all political parties to this vicious PPP cycle, which can only result in continued poor public service delivery to the Aam Aadmi. Because of judicial intervention and sustained media pressure, some reform in natural resource allocation processes is slowly taking place. There is still no clear policy on procurements in government. In particular, there are still no clear directives on moving procurement decision-making out of secretariats to independent institutional set ups. The highly belated passing of the Lokpal legislation will hopefully instil some accountability in decision-making processes, though the Lokpal is still to become active. There is also no guarantee that different states will pass the Lok Ayukta legislation in the prescribed time frame – it will probably require further judicial intervention and vigilant public opinion to ensure that effective anti-corruption bodies start functioning at the national and state levels. Finally, the establishment of independent Civil Service Boards, free of political interference, is a must if responsible and accountable governance is to have any meaning.  

Public (and political) discourse needs to move from the short-term “freebie” culture to promoting the institutionalization of responsive, transparent governance systems. Till we realize that our own inaction contributes to our plight and take steps to move our elected representatives in the desired direction, there will be no meaningful growth or development in the country.

Some years ago, a film called “Nayak” made its appearance on the silver screen. The well-known star, Anil Kapoor, essayed the role of an intrepid journalist who was made the Chief Minister of the state for a day. Through his hands-on approach to the job, Anil Kapoor not only endeared himself to one and all, but also brought all the baddies in society, the administrative and political hierarchies to book for the various misdemeanours committed by them.
This film comes to mind today at a time when the Indian public appears to be obsessed with a vigilante approach to solving its problems. The popular feeling seems to be that an all-powerful Jan Lokpal with sweeping powers will solve all the ills associated with corruption and usher in an era of Ram Rajya. On top of this, a tendency has developed to look to the top person for solutions to every issue. When quick fixes to longstanding problems are not forthcoming, the public (including the media) is more than ready to heap calumny on the top leadership.
It is no one’s case that the political elite is not responsible for many of the evils associated with the ubiquitous existence of corruption in Indian society. But it also needs to be recognised that a mere change of guard at the top is not going to improve matters. And yet, whenever there is a change in government at the state or central level, one would think that utopia has been achieved, the way the media and popular opinion immediately repose touching faith in the new occupant of the top post. This honeymoon usually lasts for six months to a year till the acts of omission and commission of the new incumbent occasion deep disillusionment in the same sections that were so enthusiastic some months earlier.
It would help to remember that leaders in India are just as human as the rest of us and as much a prisoner of circumstances as the Aam Aadmi. Leaders come to power bowed down by the weight of expectations. The acquisition of power, often after many years in the political battlefield, opens up vistas of opportunities for those who are tied to them by blood or association. The selection of competent, reasonably honest ministers is often the first casualty in the jostling for pelf and power. There is the issue of meeting sectarian demands, promises for which have been made in the heat and dust of the electoral battle. There is also the unwieldy, considerably compromised administrative machinery handed down to them by their predecessors. The politician always lives with the uneasy knowledge that she has only a five year claim on his job, in contrast to the guaranteed tenure of the permanent bureaucracy. The attitudes and the functioning of this gigantic government machine are reflective of the larger social milieu in which they operate, an environment which has steadily worsened in terms of ethical values over the past forty years. And finally, there are the purely external factors, which our leader cannot even anticipate – these can range from terrorist attacks and natural calamities to unexpected local flare-ups.
Allied to these external factors are the aspects internal to the leader. Every individual has her own worldview and her prejudices, built up over the years through the environment she has been exposed to, her understanding of economic and social issues and her own insecurities and private fears. Politicians, and especially their Indian variety, display certain traits without which they would probably not be in that field. An analysis of these would be instructive and interesting:
a) A lack of understanding of basic economics and a refusal to apply basic commercial sense to matters in the public sphere. Indian politicians remain mired in an antiquated socialist mind-set, inherited from the Nehru era. They have convinced themselves that that is what their voters want. In part, this reflects their obsession with public opinion, largely a product of the intelligentsia chatterati and the media. The latter are part of the upper middle class which is more often concerned with its own well-being and is often as ignorant (or even more) of economics and commerce than the average politician. This explains the half-baked reforms of 1991 and the failure of parties of almost every ideology over the past twenty years to deepen reforms at the national and the state level.
b) An obsession with state participation in every activity. This springs out of two motivations. The charitable explanation is that the politician has convinced herself that the private sector cannot be trusted with the non-exploitative, efficient delivery of goods and services, which in a deeper sense reflects a “socialist” unease with the operation of markets. Rather than look at creating the conditions for the effective functioning of markets, creating unwieldy state organisations for service and product delivery is the favourite pastime of Indian politicians (and bureaucrats). The rather more uncharitable reason for this state proliferation is the patronage powers it bestows on the politician. In the pre-1991 era, it was largely centred around employment (in the public sector) and awarding contracts for public sector procurements. In the post-1991 era, it has expanded to allocation of scarce natural resources and favourable financial treatment to segments of the private sector, with growing allegations of crony capitalism.
c) The failure to reform public service delivery mechanisms. Even if the Indian politician wanted to use the state machinery to deliver essential public goods and services to the citizen, she ought to have been aware of its major failings and sought to rectify these to ensure greater consumer satisfaction. What we see instead is a steadfast stonewalling of all reports on administrative, judicial and police reforms over the past twenty years, with cosmetic changes being made instead of deep-rooted institutional reforms.
d) A deliberate refusal to understand the consequences of the “business as usual” approach. It is here that the Indian politician is most culpable. Enough ink has been shed and words wasted in trying to educate them on the factors inhibiting equitable growth and improvement in the life of the Aam Aadmi. And yet, approaches to macro-policy continue on the same time-worn lines. Employment creation is sought to be tackled through a rural job guarantee rather than through innovative labour market reforms that will lead to growth in manufacturing jobs. Food security is mooted without tackling a corrupt, outdated food distribution mechanism. A right to education slogan is promoted which does not go into the causes for the dismal state of public education and the measures needed to ensure that all children complete education at least upto the secondary level and acquire the skills and competencies needed to function in a globalised economy. Agricultural market reforms are deliberately stalled when these could act as engines of rapid agricultural growth. The less said about FDI in retail, the better! No politician has been bold enough to call a spade a spade. Either she is still caught up in the dreams of socialism or (more likely) is cynically aware that thorough-going reforms in the economic, political and administrative domains will spell the end of her monopoly over resource distribution. It is even more disheartening when politicians one would normally associate with common sense and a vision for the future peddle the same obsolete shibboleths of their respective parties.

It is hardly surprising, then, to observe the repeated disenchantment of the voter with every political formation that comes to power at the national and state level riding the elephant of grand promises. But as has been presciently said “A people get the government they deserve.” The Indian intelligentsia, including but not limited to its media, academia, bureaucracy and civil society, has displayed the same myopic tendencies listed above about Indian politicians. Until the middle class sheds its illusions about a painless transformation to Utopia and is willing to support hard but unsettling decisions, foregoing short-term benefits, the current tamasha will continue. As George Santayana has remarked “Those who do not remember history are condemned to repeat it.”

“Come September” was a popular, catchy tune that caught our fancies in our adolescent high school years in the early 1970s. In our fertile imagination, fuelled by Hollywood and Bollywood movies of the 1960s, the melody conjured up visions of handsome young men and pretty girls dancing in ritzy restaurants and the ballrooms of five star hotels. Cut to forty odd years later and a different refrain “Come November” occupies the minds of those who, having navigated the corridors of government to eke out a living, are now government pensioners. This has nothing to do with romantic music; it refers to that annual rite of passage to prove one’s existence through the provision of a “life certificate” to continue enjoying pension benefits for yet one more year of one’s life.

But why is this such a big deal, you may ask. To answer this million-rupee question, I will need to go into the convoluted process for securing and submitting this blessed “life certificate”. For starters, the pensioner, who may have his pension account in a branch of a nationalised bank in Delhi and happens to be visiting his daughter in Dharwad, needs to locate a branch of the same bank in Dharwad. This is necessary since branch managers of a particular nationalised bank refuse to accept the certification by their sister (or brother) branch managers of other banks. Many other categories of signatories (including gazetted officers) are specified in the websites of banks, but I find bank managers are quite chary of accepting any individual other than one tied safely to their own bank. I had to go through this experience last November in Bangalore, when I scoured the web for a branch of the said nationalised bank in Bengaluru and was relieved to find one not very far from the place I was staying. You then check on phone when the branch manager is available and free so that your trip to the bank is not wasted. Of course, once I reached the branch, I got immediate service from the manager and was out in fifteen minutes. But this may not necessarily be the experience of everyone who visits a bank branch for this purpose. With the precious “life certificate” in hand, I summoned my friendly neighbourhood auto rickshawallah to reach the nearest post office and despatch the certificate to one of my former associates in Aurangabad (Maharashtra) for onward transmission to my bank manager there.

It is no surprise that this annual ritual is uppermost on the minds of pensioners as October draws to a close. Aged people visiting relatives or on pilgrimages time their schedules to keep November free for this exercise. I wonder what arrangement exists for those who are ill or otherwise incapacitated to complete all these formalities. I know that some banks do maintain that they will arrange to provide the certificate at the house of the sick/infirm person, but how far these instructions have percolated to their rank and file in different locations is a matter of conjecture. In any case, the “life certificate” still has to be posted to the pension-drawing branch and the pensioner is on tenterhooks till she gets confirmation of receipt.

I suggest that we use technology to sort out this issue so that pensioners can be sure of their continued existence on this earth being confirmed in their bank’s records without having to visit the bank or speculate whether the envelope with their “life certificate” has been received in the bank. For those pensioners who are tech-savvy and use internet banking, the bank can incorporate software that allows users to confirm their being alive through a simple click of a button. The usual checks of transaction passwords and specific personal questions can be added to provide reassurance to the bank. For those pensioners who cannot or are not able to access the internet, there should be a provision for them to visit the nearest branch of any bank (or be visited by a branch manager, in the event of their sickness/incapacitation) and show their pension payment orders to the branch manager. The branch manager can then access software which enables him to send the “life certificate” with his digital signature to the pensioner’s bank branch. If funds can be transferred online through RTGS/NEFT mechanisms, there is no reason why a simple certificate cannot be sent through a similar mechanism.

I welcome responses to this piece, especially from my fellow pensioners who feel simpler and pensioner-friendly procedures can be put in place. I intend to bring this issue to the notice of the Secretary of the Department of Pensions, Government of India for ensuring that, at least from 2014 onwards, we hum “Come September” and don’t have the spectre of November hanging over our heads.